Cayo Hueso - Island of Bones

By Walker Jackson

Fourth Hackney McTrite Mystery: A fascinating read with characters that are household names if you've read the first three McTrite Mysteries. Manhattan Metropolitan Insurance Company has hired Private Investigator Paul "Hazard" Douglas to find co-embezzlers Stanley Gardner and Miss Heather Rice. Spurned and insulted Hackney and Partner Deloris Pillsbury enter the race on a freelance basis. There's a fee of one point eight million dollars at stake. With McTrite's masterful cunning, Douglas is no match. But to assure Douglas' failure, Pillsbury offers him false information that leads him to Tijuana, Mexico, where he meets with misfortune. Now, the investigation is theirs alone.

No one knows that a prominent Mafia connected New Orleans family, victims, hires Carlos "Psycho" Rossini to find the embezzlers, extort the money, and waste the pair. He's famous for using a shock vest to torture his victims. He lets nothing or no one stand in his way. Thus, the ever present intrigue.

Deloris, short of work decides to investigate the murder of Freddie, the freeloader. So happens Freddie was murdered when he snitched McTrite's bourbon and soda at a bar. Hackney knows someone wants him dead. Deloris discovers that a venomous femme is making threatening remarks about McTrite, but she can't inform him that she's following him to Florida. This suspense comes to a terrifying conclusion later when McTrite takes the family to Key West for a vacation. Adding to Deloris' fears, Psycho shows up at the office and starts throwing his weight around. She sends him packing, but he swears he'll return. I don't think you'll have the foggiest notion as to the stalker's identity.

Gardner's jilted wife eagerly suggests the pair might have escaped to Key West. McTrite goes to Key West with a sports car driven by a woman hot on his tail. He's concerned, but not frightened yet. When he loses her he becomes terrified. He finds them in Cayo Hueso. McTrite learns the money is stashed in a Paris bank. But before he can have them arrested, they fly away. He follows them to Paris. Of course, he meets up with a close acquaintance in Paris from the past. It's a sexy but chase encounter. Discovering that McTrite is in Paris, the embezzlers escape to Monte Carlo. In the nick of time, McTrite detects they're leaving and follows. The end comes soon after.

An Excerpt

The gold-dust twins had absconded days earlier and their trail had cooled faster than a coon's scent that's found the creek. I was certain; however, that the defalcated funds…I laughed every time I remembered Bank President Biggers politically savvy term for embezzled…had been cleverly and stealthily stashed somewhere, possibly Switzerland. Isn't that where every crook stashes stolen monies? But I imagined, with a pea-green flush on my face, the kind of lifestyle they were enjoying.

Suddenly, I was in a big ass hurry. If Biggers hadn't convinced the insurer to employ my inveterate investigated prowess, I was ready to go the chase at the Firm's expense. The firm was losing seven-percent interest on $250,000 as the clock ticked. I'd blood-dog the devious pair. Discover where the money was stashed, and tell Biggers, William, junior, and the other four trust victims that, for a price, I'd bring the two culprits back, a citizen's arrest of sorts. Or, I might talk to Sheriff Charlie Long and have him deputize me. I'd figure out some legal loophole to stay within the law. Fortunately, I had made some invaluable friends along the way. Most PIs I knew stupidly maintain predatory relations with the police. Mmmm! The idea becomes more appealing as it ages. I love a race. It will be little old me against the Big Apple PD. Besides, business is scarcer than egg fuzz.

I reached for the phone. Deloris stormed through my door looking bestial. I returned it. "Give me coffee and no one gets hurt," she whooped.

"Let me guess. You had a wrestling match with Ray 'til the wee hours?"

"You're a witty old fox. Yes, but he didn't get any. I told him, if he continued to be so impulsive, I wouldn't date him anymore unless he allows me to shackle him. Then he said something quite stupid."

"Let me guess again. Shall I bring the whip?"

"How'd you know that?"

"I have the mind of a younger man. Actually, I was young once."

"Wheee! Is there life before coffee? I stopped by the coffee factory and started the gurgle machine. I'm surprised you hadn't made it already."

I looked at my watch and frowned. "Hmm! If we were chasing our tails, I'd give you a royal chewing out."

She proffered a roguish smile. "You did say chewing didn't you?" I just blinked my eye as if I hadn't heard her. "You should. I deserve it. I'll make it up somehow. If I perk the coffee for the next three days, will that get me exonerated?"

"Fair enough. I was about to call Biggers at the Bank and ask if he's talked the insurer into accepting our Firm to chase down Stanley and Heather, the sweetheart of Sigma Chi. If not, I had another pregnant idea. We'll do it on a freelance basis."

"You mean, like we voluntarily initiate the chase at our expense, and, if we're successful catching them, we cut a deal with the victims?"

"Honey child, you're showing spurts of brilliance. I'm thinking about having a capital D placed below my name on the front door." She smiled big.

"Let's go for it, Chief. My confidence in your judgement and ability ride a white charger. I go now and fix us coffee." She turned and switched away. My scrutiny was slightly fatherly, but manlier. She was a pleasant eyeful.

I reached the phone, dialed, and drummed my fingers through two rings.

"Brr…!"

"Crescent City Bank and Trust." It sounded like we want to be your bank.

"Hackney McTrite here. I'd like to speak to President Biggers."

"Good morning, Hackney. I know why you called." He chuckled. "Tickets to the marshmallow and weenie roast." He waited 'til I stopped laughing. "The barn fire has been postponed. The police confiscated the tons of worthless Franklin Fund Stock Stanley Gardner issued to cover his ass."

"Actually, I called to ask if Manhattan Metropolitan has agreed to have my Firm chase down the defalcators."

"Mmm! I surmised this was why you called. I want you to know I did everything within my powers to get them to employ your Firm, but failed."

I read between the lines. My position is weak considering I let this pilferage transpire under my very nose.

"I'm going to be frank, Hackney, Peter Wakeman, their CEO, stressed that their man…I think he said his name was Paul Hazard Douglas…had more experience and expertise than anyone else did in such matters. He said he's a PI's PI. And he said he'd never heard of your…Mmm…Firm. He insinuated you might be a fly-by-night outfit. What could I say?"

"I understand Harry. Thanks for trying. Is Hazard his nick name?"

"Damn if I know, McTrite."

He might be a hazard looking for a place to happen. "Good luck, Harry." You worm.

"Click!"

He's a spineless white-collar creep, a candy-ass. Shucks, I felt unlucky the moment I jump out of bed this morning and missed the floor.

The disgust seething inside subsided the moment Deloris sat at my desk, smiled sweetly, showed her knees, and pushed a steaming cup of coffee my way. "I listened in on what Biggers had to say?"

I sniffed. The air smelled like a Garden District flower garden in full bloom glazed with the smell of fresh perked coffee. "Yeah, we're not good enough." I blew my coffee and sipped. "Since we're slow, call Captain Nip Murray and ask him if he'll have one of his underlings check the book on old Hazard. I'm going to call Stanley's wife. Hopefully she'll relate a few facts that'll set a compass point to start our search for her wayward spouse. On second thought, I'll call Nip. I've got two other questions to ask him. I don't want to overtax his brain."

"Yeah, like what?"

"Who killed Freddie the Freeloader. I'm still looking over my shoulders. And I definitely do not leave drinks unattended in bars. I've wondered if Freddie has a family. When he drank my drink that night, he saved my life. I'd like to do something nice for his family."

"I'm capable of checking that out. Incidentally, I heard he was a lonely derelict."

"Sad. If we meet up yonder, I'll have to thank him. The other question will keep. I'm having lunch with Nip at Mr. T's on Friday."

"Then it's settled. What do I do after that awesome exertion of energy?"

"Bring me another coffee." She stuck out her tongue, rose, and strutted out. When she reached the door, I said, "Call Ray and go have a chummy picnic in Audubon Park. Later, I'm going to the Canal Street Cinema and catch "The Lady in the Lake." I was in London when it was released. Robert Montgomery has replaced Humphrey Bogart as super-dick Philip Marlowe. Be interesting to see how he handles the role." The names meant nothing to her.

"Chief, what do you see in those vintage flicks?"

"I don't know. I like 'em 'cause the violence is less portrayed. They don't focus on the puddles of blood and guts. There's no frontal nudity and fewer expletives are spoken. And more is left to your imagination."

"I get the idea. Like radio. With movies, what you see is what you get?"

"Yeah. Run along now and play."

I reached in the middle drawer, removed the phone directory, and flipped pages 'til I found the Gs. In two heartbeats, my index finger pointed at Mr. and Mrs. Stanley E. Gardner. I picked up the phone and dialed.

"Rrring! Rrr!"

"Mrs. Gardner speaking." Wheee! That was fast.

"Good morning, ma'am. I'm Private Investigator Hackney McTrite."

"What can I do for you, sir?" She replied shyly, sounding somewhat skeptical.

"Mrs. Gardner, before we get into that allow me to establish credibility. I'm a New Orleans Private Investigator. My suite of offices is located in the Canal Place Office building. You might have read my name concerning the recent Coca-Cola Stock Scandal…"

"Yes, I remember reading about that in the Picayune. You walked away with a tidy sum of money. "

"Well, yes. It's enabled me to stop tap dancing down Bourbon Street for alms." I thought I heard a snicker. "Mrs. Gardner, I'm going to chase down your dishonest husband and bring him back…"

"I couldn't believe Stanley would perpetrate such a evil act. He's a deacon in the First Baptist Church, and he taught Sunday school regularly."

Now, I was certain I heard her sobbing softly. Later, I'd learn she wasn't exactly an angel herself and realize my hearing went awry. "Yes, it came as a surprise to everyone. Don't abandon hope, Mrs. Gardner, your Lone Ranger decoder ring arrives tomorrow."

"Mister McTrite you're a funny man. When I put my bra on backwards this morning, and it fit better, I felt just awful. You've cheered up my day."

"Would you mind answering a few question that might point me in the right direction?"

"Certainly, Mister McTrite."

"Does Stanley use credit cards as a convenience?"

"Yes. He carries a Platinum Master Card and an Exxon Card, but he seldom uses them."

"What make and model of car did he hightail away in?"

"The 1979 Cadillac Seville. He left me the old Ford. Not very thoughtful."

"Yes, even selfish. What color is the Cadillac?"

"Solid black with white side-wall tires."

"Tag number?"

"Stan the Man. Ego oozes out his…I'm not going to say it. I'm too much a lady."

"Yes, Ma'am. Louisiana tags?"

"Yes."

"Did he take time to pack?"

"No. He left with the clothes on his back. Didn't even take his bathroom parifinalia. I hope his teeth rot out of his mouth. He's always had halitosis. Miss Rice deserves him."

And you hope she forgot her bottle of douche. "I know how you feel. Did you know Miss Rice?"

"Just slightly. We met and talked a few times when I met Stanley at the bank. I disliked her at first glance. And those fashion designer threads she draped around her voluptuous body drew my suspicion immediately. She certainly had the taste of an embezzler."

"Yes, I agree. But Stanley seems to fit the mold as well with those extravagantly tailored suits and Italian handmade shoes. And that diamond on his right hand had to weight eight or nine karats. Did Stanley have any expensive or bad habits?"

"How much time have you got? Well, he loves lobster and several times each week we'd share a bottle of expensive French champagne. Actually, we enjoyed a lobster and champagne feast two nights before he absconded. Regretfully, the loving that followed was staid and stale. He plays golf three or four times a week. He's a big handicapper. Consequently, he spends a small fortune for balls. He insisted on maintaining membership in two country clubs. When we vacation in Florida, we spend half our time at dog tracks. Invariably, we drop two grand. He also loves deep-sea sport fishing. Mister McTrite do you know a crafty divorce lawyer? Incidentally, I've heard Miss Rice is a lush."

"That's interesting. You're looking for a divorce lawyer?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact."

I told her of O'Boyle and stated his phone number. "Back to the champagne. Did he prefer any particular brand?"

"Yes. He adores De Vintage Cordon Bleu Brute. It's imported from France you know? If you catch up with Stanley and his bitch, I'd make it worth your while if you brought back a few photos that will support my divorce case."

"Color it done, Mrs. Gardner. Can you think of any other conspicuous mannerism or physical marks that people would remember?"

"Mmm! He has this habit of touching his crouch when he's nervous, and he drums his fingers incessantly. He has a burn scar on his left wrist, but it doesn't stand out like an eye patch would."

"Where do you think he fled to?"

"Florida. Like I said, he loves golf, dog racing, and sport fishing. Florida's the place. Did I say he hates cold weather?"

"Any place in particular?"

"He likes the Gold Coast, around Fort Lauderdale, but I'd guess he'd head for a port-of-call less optical and more bohemian in character, like Key West…Oh, yes, I received just yesterday a monthly statement from his Sunshine Bank platinum credit card. He stopped at Barnett Bank in Sebring, Florida, and put $2,000 on his credit card."

"That's interesting and pretty foolish on his part. What was the date?"

"It happened the second day after he fled. I expect he got enough cash to last 'til he could arrange finances from his clandestine bank."

"I'm sure you're right. He's too smart to continue such a loose and trail marking practice."

"Mrs. Gardner, what I'm about to tell you needs to be kept under your bonnet. One of the trust accounts that Stanley embezzled from belongs to a family that's Mafioso connected. I've heard on the streets that they are searching for your husband. And if they find him before I do, you won't need infidelity photos."

She gasped and then sighed. I understood.

"If you get a call from another PI pretending to be working for the insurer of the bank, tell the caller a fairy tale. He's the kind of person who'll go to any extreme to get the money, even torture. Or he'll force your husband into signing papers that gives him access to the money. Then, he absconds with the entire enchilada. Think of the poor beneficiaries of the trust."

"My husband deserves such a fate, but I realize what you say is right. I must bend to my spiritual upbringing. But I want out. I can't live under the same roof with an adulterer and thief. My pious nature simply won't tolerate it. I'll do as you say."

I really felt like a heel now. I'd told a big fib to gain the advantage over Hazard. But they'd really chapped my fanny when they ridiculed my Firm. "Thank you Mrs. Gardner. If you think of anything else that might help, I'd be appreciative if you called. If I'm not available, give the info to my coworker, Miss Deloris Pillsbury. Certainly, if anymore credit charges show up."

"You're welcome. May I call you, Hackney?"

"It would please me, immensely. May I call you…''

"Ann."

"I'll do my best, Ann, to capture several useful photos. Goodbye… Ooops! I forgot. Do you own a recent photo of him I can have?"

"Well, fairly recent. I can mail it to you."

"I'm thinking about heading out tomorrow. Can I drop by your place later and pick it up?"

"Sure. I'll be home all day. Do you know the address?"

"Yes. I'll drop by after lunch say around one p.m."

"That'll be fine. Goodbye, Mister McTrite."

"Click!"

Excerpts 2

~ Paris - Orly International ~

I stayed steps away. We cleared customs quickly. The French only cared how much money you'd brought. My eyes roamed searchingly for Gabrielle. I didn't see her. She'll probably be waiting at baggage claim. Worry coursed through me. I hope she doesn't scream, Hackney, when she sees me. Relax, she doesn't know Father Sheehan.

Spotting Gabrielle was like stepping from air-conditioning into July heat. My heart thumped. My spirits soared. Exhilarative elegance made the others standing near appear tawdry. She'd dressed in a plaid wool suit tailored to flaunt her feminine endowments of which she owned many. She'd always been a flashy dresser, a virtual clotheshorse."

I went straight to her. Without prelude I said, "Mademoiselle, please be calm…"

She raised both eyebrows revealing those sexy almond-shaped, swarthy colored eyes. Her light-brown hair was still cut pageboy. Her trim, shapely figure suggested she still danced, played tennis, and made love like a mink. She was a shapely doll full of sensuality. I wanted to cuddle her, but I didn't dare. It would lead to the obvious.

She gasped circumspectly. "Father, do I know you?"

I decided to milk the moment. Baggage wasn't speeding our way. The gold-dust twins waited impetuously across the way. "Yes, my child. I'm Father McTrite." I turned away from the embezzlers and removed my colored shades.

"Hackney, you devious cad."

Her arms flung around me. "Gabrielle, I'm a priest, control yourself. Only a kiss on the cheek is appropriate." I breathed deeply.

"Oui, Cherie. We kiss for real later."

A friendly kiss on the cheek followed.

"Gabrielle, you know I'm married. We must be like sister and brother, priest and nun."

She raised her eyebrows. "This is Paris Cherie, but I try remember. It's cruel love, Cherie. Months have gone by since you left Paris, and I've pined for you. Besides, French priests are… I won't be blasphemous " Her countenance now expressed a longing that would go unfulfilled if my will prevailed.

I remembered that moment at restaurant La Tour d’Argent when we learned Sarah was alive. I'd met Gabrielle shortly after I escaped to Paris. We fell in love during the months that followed. She was devastated.

"I confess, Father, I have not gone without men, but Hackney is special teddy bear. I try to behave, Father." Her smile was beguiling. I gave her a gentle hug.

Luggage plopped through the opening and raced our way. A flurry of activity ensued, pushing and shoving. The scramble was on. Now, I worried that the gold-dust twins might get their luggage before me. It's not a problem. I can get the luggage anytime, but now would be most convenient. The apprehension subsided.

"Cherie, the embezzlers, they no come."

"Oh, yes, they stand over there waiting for luggage. They're the elegantly dressed couple. She wears a mink stole and a creation from Sak's Fifth Avenue. He wears a tailored gray pin-stripped suit and carries a dark wool coat."

"Oui! They don't look like thieves."

"What do thieves look like?" I chuckled. "They aren't ordinary thieves. They've embezzled millions."

She lifted her shoulders and pulled a look. "What does a prostitute look like? And yet, I can spot one a kilometer away. And you know they might charge a queen's ransom or a few francs. Still you know."

"Oui! But they dress alluringly and cake their face with makeup."

"Oui, they show everything. Was silly thought? You'd never guess I was a tourist guide by looking would you?"

"Well, no. My baggage speeds our way as we speak. I'll grab it and we'll step aside. When theirs arrives, we'll follow them. After we learn where they'll be staying, we'll go enjoy a fine old bottle and lunch. I've learned their meeting with the bank isn't 'til this coming Friday. Since you aren't working…you aren't working are you?"

"Non, Cherie. I'm yours for the next three days. Besides, my current boyfriend is out of town."

"Strictly platonic."

"You're hell-bent on making me a virtuous femme. I believe it was M. de Lamester's whose new French dictionary defines virtue as: "A woman who has only one lover and doesn't steal."

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